Seduction of Moxie (17 page)

Moxie tried to snap out of the erotic fog that was wrapping around her and clouding her mind. “That’s a very attractive offer, to be sure. But I can’t tonight.”

“Moxie—”

“Shh.” She traced Violet’s lips lightly with her fingers. “Things are moving a little fast for me. In the last half hour I’ve discovered that you traveled across the country and were in the audience without telling me, that my agent doesn’t approve of you or anyone you know, that both he and my roommate are now coming along on my train trip to Hollywood—but only to keep me from you—and, most importantly, how very much I love your mouth. That’s quite a bit for me to absorb, wouldn’t you say?”

Violet nodded slowly.

“Then give me tonight to work through everything, okay? We have the next three days together and, after that, however long I’m in Hollywood.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you crazy.”

“You can’t help it,” Moxie joked. “It’s just something you do.”

“I guess I’ll go, then, and see you in the morning.” She kissed Moxie once more, this time softly and reverently. “Good night.”

Before Moxie could catch her breath and even consider replying, Violet and her dog were gone.

She sat down and rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm as she pondered the unexpected turns the evening had taken. As right as being with Violet felt, she couldn’t shake the fear that there was some truth to what Cotton had told her. He was an opportunist of epic proportions, that was certain. But he had also pulled her out of obscurity in that lousy Nebraska dive and pointed her toward success.

Maybe she
did
need to focus on her future and her career first.

But holy crap, Violet got her so hot. When she was with her, she couldn’t think about anything but the surging waves of arousal that Violet evoked, and how wet and tingly she felt. She wanted her so badly that she was amazed she had the resolve to send her away. Or was it fear?

She started to change her clothes, all the while wondering what the hell she would do when morning came.

Chapter Ten

“All right,” Cotton said authoritatively. “I’m going to go get tickets for Ivy—”

“Irene,” Moxie and Irene said in unison.

“—and me. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to anyone. Just wait here until I get back. Got me?”

Moxie rolled her eyes, nodded, then took in all the activity in the bustling concourse of Grand Central Terminal. Even though she had been in New York City over seven months, the grandeur of the architecture and the size of the crowds awed her as much as they had the day she arrived.

She casually scanned the crowds for a glimpse of Violet. “I can’t believe you sold me out,” she muttered to Irene. “Coming along on this trip so you can spy on me for my agent.”

“I’m not spying. Mr. McCann says he only wants what’s best for you. And just last night, you said you didn’t know
what
you wanted.”

Moxie winced. Irene had a point. “It would be nice to be treated like an adult able to make her own decisions and not like some fat girl who can’t be left alone in a sweet shop because she might fondle all the fondant.” She wiggled her fingers.

Irene cocked an eyebrow. “Well, perhaps you
would
be treated like someone who could make her own decisions, if you’d make one.”

“Look, this is a little more complicated than deciding which shoes go with which bag.”

“Are you the shoes or the bag?”

Moxie glared in response until a tap on her shoulder prompted her to turn.

“Hey, tomato,” Violet said with a grin.

Moxie felt her face light up. “Hey, yourself. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

“I had a little problem getting Lady Chatterley here up and dressed this morning.” She motioned to a very weary-looking Wil. “It seems she and a certain waiter had an illicit encounter last night that has made her a little, shall we say, sleep-deprived.”

“A waiter from the Luna?” Moxie asked conspiratorially. “Which one?”

“The circumcised one,” Wil replied. “And let me go on record by saying that he has completely reformed my perception of Judaism.”

“So he made you see Moses?” Violet asked.

“That may very well be what happened, though we may have broken a commandment or two.”

“Well, if it was only two, that’s a slow night for you, sister,” Violet said.

“Holy cats.” Irene’s shock was evident.

“Oh, sorry. Wil, Violet, this is my roommate Irene.”

“You’re the spy?” Wil blurted.

“I’m not spying! I’m just here to help…and to get a free trip to Hollywood.” She looked at Wil and Violet. “I’m really not a bad person.” Her attention moved to the floor, where a little brown dog sat staring up at her attentively. “Is this Clitty?”

“His reputation precedes him, apparently,” Violet said. Irene knelt down to pet him, and Violet took the opportunity to share a smoldering look with Moxie. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks. You look hungry.”

The left corner of Violet’s mouth rose slightly, but her gaze stayed smoldering. “Yes, I was just imagining warm, moist flapjacks.”

Moxie surged with heat from this provocative playfulness. “The kind that are sticky and sweet?”

“Definitely that kind. So messy you have to lick your fingers when you’re done.”

Wil groaned. “Good Lord, all this pancake talk is making me horny. Can you two just fuck and get it over with?”

“Hotchy botchy!” Irene stood up quickly.

“What’s all this?” Cotton said, returning to the group with a sneer. “I thought I said not to talk to anyone.”

“Wil and Violet aren’t just
anyone,
” Moxie replied in irritation.

“Yes,” he snapped. “They’re, in fact, the ones I wanted you to avoid.”

“But—”

“Come on.” He pulled her toward the train by her forearm. “This is precisely why I’m here. Let’s board now.”

Moxie turned and looked at Violet apologetically as she was briskly led away.

“Hey, wait for me,” Irene called. “It was nice meeting you,” she said awkwardly as she hurried after them.

“Wow,” Violet said as she watched them board the train.

“You know what that was?” Wil asked.

“What?”

“Douchebaggery, of the highest degree.”

“I would have to agree.”

“It looks like you might have to work a little for this one, sister.”

“Hmm, and you might have to help me.” She picked up her dog.

“Well, I
do
owe you. And you know I can’t tolerate douchebags.”

“You can’t cotton to Cotton?”

“Count me in, doll.”

Violet smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

*

Moxie was chagrined, though not at all surprised, that Cotton had made sure she and Irene were sharing a double bedroom. She had surmised that Irene would be her constant chaperone.

Nonetheless, the way she was being treated still bothered her. Sure, Cotton kept droning on about what was best for her career and how she’d thank him later. But she was still reconciling the astounding effect that Violet’s presence had on her and the novelty of this kind of powerful desire. It was rather comical that after years of singing songs about passion and longing, she had never felt what she had been crooning about, until now.

What had she felt with her old beaus? It didn’t remotely compare to this. Back then, she found it harder to say yes to them than no. She had to really concentrate to rebuff Violet’s advances and then almost immediately experienced a series of regrets that oscillated between hunger and misgiving.

She dutifully spent the first couple of hours of the trip in the communal drawing room that all four bedrooms in her railroad car shared. But after she realized she had read the same page of her book about sixteen times and still didn’t have a damn clue what it said, she sighed and stood.

“What?” Irene asked.

“I’m just jittery. I need to go for a walk.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Mr. McCann said we’re supposed to stay here.”

Moxie put her hands on her hips. “What did he promise you?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, girlie. What did Cotton offer you so you’d stick to me like glue?”

Irene’s face fell. “He said he’d get me a screen test when we got to Hollywood if I kept you and Violet apart.” The words spilled out as though the confession was a relief.

“And you believed him?”

Suddenly something slid under the door.

“What’s that?” Irene picked up the envelope. “It’s for you.”

“Is that from Violet?”

“No.” She flipped it over and read the name on the back. “It’s from someone named Fanny Hertz.” She handed it over to Moxie, who was laughing. “What’s so damned funny? Who’s Fanny Hertz?”

“Mine does.” She tore the missive open and slid out the folded paper inside.

Darling,

I realize that you’re sequestered, but I miss your company terribly. Could you possibly slip away? I’m in bedroom 8, and Wil is next door at 7, but I’ll be getting a bite in the dining car soon.

Come by to see me, or meet me for lunch. Your choice.

Vi

“What does it say?” Irene asked.

“Nothing.” Moxie folded the note back up and slipped it under the neckline of her dress. “Just welcoming me aboard. But I’m getting hungry. Let’s change and head over to the dining car in a bit.”

*

When Irene and Moxie arrived at the dining car, it was apparent that idea had occurred to many of the other passengers as well.

“Wow, it’s packed in here,” Irene said.

“There’s Vi. Let’s sit with her.” She pulled Irene across the car.

“Are you sure it’s food you’re hungry for?”

“Violet,” Moxie said in feigned surprise. “What a coincidence. Is it okay if we sit with you?”

Violet looked up calmly from her newspaper, a copy of the
New York World-Telegram.
“Certainly, ladies,” she replied, almost in disinterest. “Ah, the crossword puzzle.”

As Moxie took the seat next to Violet, she was surprised and a little disappointed by Violet’s cool response. She tried not to frown as she watched Violet borrow a pen from a waiter. “Where’s Wil?”

“Sleeping,” Violet answered as she started the puzzle.

“Recovering from last night still?” Irene took a seat across from them.

“Getting ready for tonight. There’s a whole trainload of men she hasn’t slept with yet, and Wil has very lofty goals.”

“She’s like a machine,” Irene said, with a tinge of awe in her voice.

Violet looked at her in amusement. “She is—a well-oiled, foul-mouthed, gin-swilling, dick-licking machine.”

“God bless her.” Moxie touched her water goblet to Violet’s glass.

“And God bless Tiny Tim,” Violet toasted back, taking a drink.

Moxie coughed into her water. “Is Wil sleeping with him too?”

“To some, it’s a crutch,” Violet teased. “To Wil, it’s a dildo.”

The waiter took that very inopportune time to return to the table, but if he overheard the conversation, his expression didn’t show it. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

“I’d like a cup of coffee,” Irene said.

“Tea, please,” Moxie added.

“And you, miss? Would you care for another lemonade?”

Violet nodded, though she grimaced slightly as the waiter departed.

“Not your first choice, huh?” Irene asked.

“Lemonade wasn’t even in my first hundred choices, no. But sometimes you just have to make do.”

Moxie lowered her voice slightly. “You and Wil didn’t bring any libations with you?”

“You bet your ass we did, toots. But I’m saving them until I can really use them.”

Cotton suddenly loomed over their table with a look of disapproval. “Ah, here you are. I should have known.”

“Like now, for instance,” Violet said matter-of-factly.

Cotton squinted at Violet. “Moxie, why is it that every time I turn my back, when I next see you, you’re with this…person?” He gestured dismissively toward her.

“Thanks for acknowledging my species,” Violet said, her voice devoid of discernable emotion. “It sounded like it challenged you.”

Moxie huffed in annoyance. “As you can see, Cotton, it’s very crowded. Violet was nice enough to let us sit at her table.”

Cotton pulled out the remaining chair across from Moxie and got comfortable. “Where’s the other floozy? The redhead?”

Violet didn’t look up from her crossword puzzle. “Resting, but I’ll make sure I convey to her your regards. She’ll no doubt be touched to be in your thoughts so fondly.”

He sneered. “Aw, applesauce.”

Violet shifted to Moxie. “Say, are you any good at these?” She waggled the newspaper.

“Crossword puzzles? A little, I guess.”

“This one—five letters, goddess of love.” Violet paused for a moment and in the blocks wrote M-o-x-i-e.

“That doesn’t seem right,” Moxie said softly.

“I think it is, because from the
i
I get this.” She wrote I-w-a-n-t-y-o-u in 19 Down.

“Ah” was all Moxie could rasp out. “I see.”

“What did you order?” Irene asked as she perused the menu.

“Roast beef. I recommend it.” Violet returned her attention to the puzzle. “So, a twelve-letter word that means a nighttime activity.”

“Uh.” Moxie was too distracted to process the clue.

She watched Violet write M-y-m-o-u-t-h-o-n-y-o-u in 24 Across. “There.”

“Yes!” Moxie blurted a little too quickly. She was relieved to see Cotton and Irene were still discussing lunch options. “That’s definitely it.”

“Hmm, eight letters—a honey-like substance.”

Moxie pulled the pen seductively from her hand and scribbled y-o-u-r-l-i-p-s in the blocks.

“You
are
good at this,” Violet said.

“I hate to interrupt your literary consortium,” Cotton said, “but do you know what you’re ordering yet, Moxie?”

Violet ignored him, taking the pen back. “Twenty-nine Down. Nine letters, meaning ever-watchful.” She filled the blocks with d-o-u-c-h-e-b-a-g.

Moxie struggled not to laugh. “Yes, Cotton. I do.” She nodded.

“Good,” Irene said. “Because I’m hungry.”